


Nerves Like Nylon

by CitrusVanille



Series: Nerves Arc [3]
Category: McFly
Genre: Kissing, M/M, stage fright
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-12
Updated: 2008-08-12
Packaged: 2019-03-01 09:37:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13292091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CitrusVanille/pseuds/CitrusVanille
Summary: Dougie's hiding from an interview again, but Danny's not there to pull him through it.





	Nerves Like Nylon

“Fucking, fucking, fuck,” Dougie mutters under his breath as he rocks steadily back and forth, legs drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around his knees. He has managed to wedge himself under a table in a corner behind a stack of unlabelled boxes, and is rather proud of himself for not fleeing the television studio all together. Still. There is no way in hell he’s leaving his hiding spot. He’s a little ashamed of himself for it, because he’s been better, really he has, but that’s mostly down to Danny and his crazy – if bizarrely effective – methods of distraction. And Danny’s not here.

“Fucking arsehole,” Dougie hisses, still rocking, and drops his forehead to his knees. “Stupid fucking bastard.” It would just figure that Danny would go and get sick the night before they were all due to appear on some national talk show. And now Dougie is fighting nausea himself. But he knows he can’t claim Danny’s made him ill as well, because there’s no way Tom will buy that – and Tom’s going to kill him if Dougie doesn’t go on, but he can’t. Can’t. He can’t.

“Dougie?”

Dougie jerks upright, somehow managing to jump and crack his head on the underside of the table. “Ow,” he clutches his head and tries to glare at Harry, who is peering at him around the boxes.

“Sorry,” Harry says, and actually sounds like he means it. Dougie wonders briefly if maybe whatever bug Danny has is contagious after all, then returns his attention to the pain in his head.

“What do you want?” it comes out a bit whinier than Dougie had intended, but, really, his head feels like there’s a team of angry elephants dancing in it, and it’s all Harry’s fault.

“It’s almost time,” Harry says. “Tom’s a bit –” Harry waves his hands around his head in explanation, “because we couldn’t find you.” He offers one hand to Dougie, who stares at it for a moment, wondering what Harry’s done to it.

“What did you do to your hand?” he asks.

Harry blinks at him, glances at his own hand, then back up at Dougie’s face. “Nothing? I was just offering to help you out of there.”

Dougie scowls. “Not coming.”

“Don’t pout,” Harry tells him, completely unreasonably, because Dougie is not pouting, he’s scowling. In a very manly fashion. “And get out of there before Tom comes and kills us both so he can drag our dead bodies on for the interview.”

“Not fair,” Dougie grits out, curling in on himself again and sliding even further under the table.

Harry sighs dramatically. “Don’t make me come in there after you.”

“Tell Tom Danny made me sick,” Dougie tries.

“Did he?” It’s not really a question.

“No,” Dougie admits.

“Then get out here.” Harry beckons imperiously.

Dougie tries another scowl. “Harry, I can’t go out there.”

Harry’s lips twitch, like he’s trying not to grin – or laugh – and Dougie knows the scowl was a little too pleading. “You’ve done all right the past few interviews we’ve had.”

“Yes, but Danny –” Dougie cuts himself off. He’s not sure he can explain how Danny’s been helping without Harry taking it the wrong way.

Harry bites his lip. “Right,” he says, and Dougie is trying to figure out what he means by that, when hands grip him firmly by the wrists and drag him out from his hiding place. He shrieks – in a very manly way – and struggles, but Harry’s probably as strong as Danny is – though his hands don’t engulf Dougie’s wrists in the same way – and it’s no use.

Once he’s gotten him out into the open, Harry hauls Dougie upright – half-wrenching his arms as he does so – before he releases him. Dougie considers making a break for it, but the raised eyebrow Harry shoots him advises against it. Dougie may be quick, but Harry is clever and strong and likes to tickle. Dougie settles for rubbing at his shoulders in an accusatory sort of way. Harry ignores him.

“I called Danny when we couldn’t find you,” he says. “Tom suggested it. Thought he might know where you’d hidden this time.”

“How did he know?” Dougie doesn’t quite understand how Danny can always find him. Maybe he put a tracer bug in his belly button while Dougie was asleep, like Agent Smith did to Neo. Not that that idea makes Dougie feel any better. His head and arms hurt, thanks to Harry, and he still feels like he’s likely to be ill at any moment. He’s started bouncing again. At least Harry hasn’t made a snarky comment about it. Yet.

“Uhm, well, he didn’t, exactly, just said there were a couple places we could look, but he also, well. Uhm. So, Danny said to. Uh.” Harry rubs at the back of his neck, and Dougie’s a little disturbed by how awkward he seems, but, really, he’s not sure he’s up to doing anything about it. Unless Danny said that Dougie should go home to take care of him. _That_ would mean he doesn’t have to do this – this _thing_ – in which case Dougie will be more than happy to listen to Harry be awkward, and maybe even enjoy it enough to hold it over him later – he deserves it after the way he’s been manhandling him – but. “Well,” Harry’s gone an interesting shade of red. “He said to.” And he abruptly grabs Dougie by the shoulders and yanks him forwards.

Dougie is not expecting this. His arms pinwheel as he loses his balance and falls against Harry, but Harry seems to be ready for Dougie to come crashing into him, and leans into it, kissing Dougie squarely on the mouth.

Dougie gasps in shock and clutches at Harry, trying to regain his balance.

Harry pulls back just as suddenly, though he maintains his hold on Dougie, helping to support him.

“What –” Dougie’s voice emerges as a squeak before it cuts out.

Harry shrugs, looking much less awkward and much more pleased with himself in a rather annoyingly haughty way. Dougie wonders if they taught him that at his stupid swanky school. “Danny said it worked.”

“He told you to abuse and molest me?” Dougie’s voice is still too high, but he can’t help it.

“Well, not exactly,” Harry says, considering. “Let’s try that again.”

“ _What?_ ” Dougie almost screams, but the sound gets lost in Harry’s mouth as he leans in again and presses his lips firmly to Dougie’s.

Dougie flails for a moment, but Harry is much gentler this time, fingers trailing up Dougie’s neck, one hand winding into his hair, the other softly tracing his jaw. Dougie’s tensed muscles relax, his eyes close, and when Harry’s tongue glides across the seam of his lips, he parts them almost automatically. It’s actually kind of – nice.

Dougie’s just started to kiss back when Harry pulls away again, and for a split second Dougie follows him before he realizes what he’s doing and jerks backwards, eyes snapping open.

Harry is smirking at him. “Well?”

Dougie opens his mouth, tries to speak, fails, and shuts it again. His eyes feel like they’re about to pop out of his head.

Harry’s smirk deepens. “Let’s go then.”

This time Dougie manages to speak. Sort of. “Go?” it comes out as a bit of a squeak.

“The interview. Tom’s probably having kittens.” And without further ado, Harry grabs Dougie by the hand and tugs him in the direction of the studio stage.

“But.” Dougie tries to stall, but Harry only pulls him along faster.

“Where the fuck did you get to this time?” Tom demands as soon as he spots Harry and Dougie as they round the corner leading into the backstage.

“He was hiding,” Harry announces. “In a corner. Behind boxes. Under a table.” 

Tom gives Dougie a Look. “I thought you were getting over this.” It’s not a question.

Dougie fidgets, trying to think of something to say. Harry’s still holding his hand and Dougie is kind of glad, but also kind of wishes he’d let go.

There’s an explosion of noise from behind the door to the stage, and one of the stagehands appears out of nowhere. “You’re on,” she says before vanishing again, and Dougie can’t decide whether he wishes he could kiss her for saving him or kill her for being the messenger.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Tom warns. “Don’t die,” he adds, and pushes the door open.

Harry abruptly leans in very close. “If you’re good, I’ll do it again,” he whispers right into Dougie’s ear, breath stirring Dougie’s hair, then there’s a hint of teeth against the skin just below the gauge, and Dougie shivers.

He turns, but Harry just presses his mouth to Dougie’s for a brief moment, squeezing his hand, before pulling back and winking. “Ready or not,” he says, and follows Tom through the door.

Dougie, hand still captive, can do nothing but follow, head reeling. The bright lights and the sound of the applause hit him as they walk onto the stage, but all he can think is whether or not Tom’s going to start wondering how Harry and Danny have managed to get him through all of it.

**END**


End file.
